


It Only Hurts if You Think of Me.

by CopicsForNameless



Series: Are we happy yet? [1]
Category: Marvel, spideypool - Fandom
Genre: Author, Blood, Established Realtionship, Fighting, Flirting, Gore, Hahaha sweet Lordy lord I need to stop writing, M/M, Sad, Suicide, Suicide mention, Violence, Wade Centric, author plays a roll, baaaad flirting, break - Freeform, dubious characterizations, fight, ing bones what else, more tags to come, seriously if you need me to tag something I will, tell me if you need me to tag something and I will, white box - Freeform, yellow box - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6898318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopicsForNameless/pseuds/CopicsForNameless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An argument with the author forces Deadpool to make some quick decisions, and they're likely not in his best interests. Still he made them and he's going to have to figure out if he can live with the consequences of his actions.  </p><p> </p><p>"Isn't there anything I can say to make you stay?"</p><p>"Good because I didn't want you here in the first place."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The migraine before the storm.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [We just want you to be happy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494996) by [TheLadySyk0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadySyk0/pseuds/TheLadySyk0). 



> I cannot stress enough how much this fic and I owe to the fantastic TheLadySyko. their work is just... Indescribable, but so so good. Please give them a bit of your time if you're already spending it on my fic and go read their stories from their series "Deadpool knows he's in a fanfic"
> 
> I'm not joking there's a 50% chance you'll regret this story, but a 100% change theirs will change your life for the better.

“Huh, back already?”

“Ah well what can I do you for? You looking to get into the smut business? Fluff? Maybe just some good old angst?” He asked. Jovial and upbeat, he watched the light flash off his phone and bounce off his ceiling. It was more interesting than the conversation he had with himself. “Well you came to the right place, you get a life time supply with the regenerating degenerate; Deadpool.” 

No none of that. He stilled his hands, stopped fiddling, then spiked the phone across the room onto the armchair.

“Yea right; well whatever it is you want I am at your beckon and call.” Wade flourished his hands in a mock bow, never moving from his lazy spot sprawled out on the couch. 

I don't want anything from you. 

“In my business if they don't want something from you then they want you dead.” Blank eyes focused ahead on the tv again. “So I call bullcrap on that.” 

The light emitting from the screen was one of the only lights in the dark of his apartment. It strained his eyes at best, but wade stared ahead without so much as blinking. When the episode ended, those eyes found their way back to the ceiling boards. Narrowing in suspicion.

Not a single thing happened. The seconds ticked by into minutes and the single episode into three. Nothing continued to happen. Because sometimes thats all there is to life. 

“Okay Author, what the hell.” 

What are we watching? 

“American dad, what's it to you?”

I love that show.

He slumped back again, irritated; then let out a puff of air. “No kidding, It's out of character for me to slap this on.” The merc grumbled with a lazy wave of his hand. "Knew something was up." 

He opened his mouth, the complaint was cut off by the buzz of the front door. Fucking finally. Deadpool cut across the room, ready to fill the poor aid with led. He ripped it open; pistol pointed at the intruder’s head. Who froze with one hand at the ready to knock.

The pizza boy must of pissed his pants right then and there. But between one 'don't shoot!’ And the next, He disappeared down the hall. The pies hit the ground with a heart breaking splat; some of the contents smeared on the dirty rug. 

Not that it was really a problem; Deadpool was the merc with the mouth after all, and he’d put just about anything in it. 

“I detest that.” Scooping up the boxes and fallen slices alike, he kicked the door shut behind him and plopped himself back onto the couch. Deadpool lounged across it with the boxes balanced on his chest. “And I didn't agree to whatever this is turning into,” he grumbled, then stuffed his face full of pizza. “Talk about a blind date.”

It can't be so bad, it means free food. 

Instead of acknowledging the insufferable author, Deadpool kept chewing. He scarfed it down at an alarming rate. Cheesy greasy goodness dripped down his jaw, he caught it on the back of a glove. 

“Call me crazy, but this probably isn't all you came here for.” Wade tossed an emptied box into the abyss that was his apartment. “Y’know, the whole ‘show’ part of dinner and a show.”

Probably. 

Deadpool stiffened, but played it off. “So is that a threat? You finally going to do something?” 

 

 

“Don't just ignore me! I know a threat when I see one.”

 

 

“Fine then! I know a sure fire way to end this!” He shouted, hands flying up in exasperation before they moved to the holsters on his thighs. Almost sloppily he jabbed his pistol to his temple and switched the safety off. “This what you want? Want to see the big guy crack? Well step right up and see the show. You get first class seats.”

Wade put the gun down, I don't want that. 

“Make me.” 

A beat, then Deadpool’s hand faltered. The shaking worsened when the repulsion hit him. he'd done it a million times, and do it a million more, but There was always that minute before he pulled the trigger. That one where he argued with himself, a back and forth game that no one ever really won. 

Because he knew it wouldn't change anything, that he’d just wake up all over again. 

“Yea with a killer migraine to boot.” His hand floated back to the couch aimlessly. “I didn't exactly think that one out, did I.” Deadpool waited for the response, it never came.

Outside the inky navy of the night was turning into the baby blues of a cloudy morning. Something after five and the sun was already making an appearance. It was too gooddanmed early in the morning for anyone sane to be out, even the sun.

What happened to him? 

“Maybe I stopped playing along with all your sick fantasies.” He grumbled. “And from one sicko to another you guys are into some really messed up stuff.” He stared down at the floor boards as if refusing to acknowledge his situation was the same as stopping it. 

“The hell you expect me to do to stop this? I think we've both clearly seen I don't control it.” He had pushed himself from the couch and paced around in his apartment. The mess made that a little difficult. “You're repetitive too. It's an annoying personality trait to have.” he said mid pace.

“You're, you're not leaving any time soon, are you?” He waited, tilted his head and listened, and when he didn't get an answer; nodded like he had. He replaced his guns in their holsters, and straightened his back. The crack filled the room. 

“Better give the audience what they want right?!” He slammed his apartment door behind him. “Lights, camera! Action!"


	2. lights, camera, action

By camera's, Deadpool of course meant heads. 

The points were wracking up and his theme music had started. The last two baddies made a break for it, but didn't get far with Deadpool hot on their heels. 

Throwing himself at them, there was a sickening moment of suspension when his blades stuck on bone. Until the lot of them dropped down to the concrete. Two out of three without their heads

[[Now that was sick!]] 

{{I agree. What a disgusting show of your disregard for human life. Remind me why we are here again?}}

“Because this stuff is fun!” Deadpool cheered jumping up off the ground. He wiped the blood off on his thighs then pivoted towards the other bodies, ready to get to work.

[[That shit is just unsanitary.]]

Deadpool grunted in response, or because he was dragging a pile of dead bodies into a less conspicuous place. The why wasn't exactly clear.

{{It also looks morally, and more importantly; physically taxing. Who would enjoy this anyway?}}

“nerds.” 

[[Are you calling us nerds? Or are you saying nerds enjoy murder? And if you are, then are you calling yourself a nerd too?]]

{{Maybe he's just one of those self proclaimed nerds, who are proud of the title.}}

"I really hope you're not talking about me Pool!” A voice called, totally ignoring that yellow had already asked that. So there was a fifty percent chance the voice was real.

Deadpool cursed under his breath. He gently closed the dumpster lid; careful not to bring any more attention to it. The giant trail of blood leading up to the dumpster would be give away enough. 

He jogged up to the source. Deadpool was just thankful that the pest was sitting back, lazing about, with his feet figuratively kicked up. 

In reality he was perched as per-usual but the important part was that he hadn't moved. And couldn't see any of the bodies Deadpool hid. 

Deadpool swallowed past the lump in his throat, and worked past the stiffness in his joints to give a little wave. “Course not baby boy. You're not old enough to gain your nerd status yet.” He said, and earned a little scoff in return. 

“I'm 23. I think I'm old enough to give you a good ass kicking for that one.” He huffed, leaning back to wave his hand about in his mock tantrum. “Besides! You can be a nerd at any age.” Spiderman ranted. 

“Oh right you are Spidey, you're a nerd. Boy did you show me.” Deadpool watched the look of regret pass over the hero's mask. And hid a smirk away as he watched it. Maybe this would go well after all.

“Wait no, that's not… shit.”

“Ah ah ah, baby boy; should you really be using such baddie waddie words?”

“Dammit Pool we just established I'm old enough to swear.” 

[[And that you're a NERD!]]

“Right, what yellow said, don't forget the nerd part.” Deadpool offered.

“I'd really love to.. But I don't think your going to let me forget it.” He sighed, smearing a hand down his face in his exasperation. 

“Unlikely. I'm just too nice of a guy to let you forget your battle won title. You fought hard for that one.” He said, checking the wall for any way to get up it. He had to steer this conversation, and Spidey as far away from here as possible.

“Thanks Deadpool. I really appreciate it.” he didn't need to climb it anyway; as soon as Spiderman finished talking he hopped down the lengthy drop without so much as a thud. 

Shit.

“So to celebrate lets go out to eat. I'm thinking in and out! My treat?” Deadpool slipped his arm around Spiderman's shoulders, effectively dragging the smaller of the two away. 

{{Just tell him now Deadpool. He’ll be more upset if you wait until he finds out.}}

Instead of complying, Spiderman laughed then did something of a spin to slip out of the hold; he wound up behind Deadpool. Spiderman wagged a little takeout bag of his own at the merc, all humour and mock attitude. 

[[You don't happen to have any sort of back up plan for this do you? Caaause we've got about thirty seconds before beautiful over there with the big brown eyes spots the SHITTON OF DEAD BODIES!!]]

{{As I said. He's going to figure it out Deadpool.}} 

“Fuuuuck.” The merc muttered under his breath still staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He could absently hear Spidey talking on behind him; something about classy broads, and dinner first; but the words were lost to the blood rushing in his ears. 

{{You have to do something. Tell him or distract him. Just pick one because he's walking away, and we don't have a plan if he finds them now.}} 

[[Ten, nine, eight,]] 

Fuck

[[Seven, six, five,]] 

{{He's still walking…}} 

[[Four! thrEE! TWO!!]]

Butter fucker. Shit. fuck. Neither of you are any help. 

With a movement far too quick to be registered Deadpool pulled out both his guns and fired.


	3. Chapter 3

“Uhh… deadpool?” Spiderman tried, as he fidgeted from foot to foot. Something Deadpool could only tell from he shuffling nose behind him.

Deadpool stared ahead his eyes blown wide. He stared at the wall and at the two bullet holes he freshly made, his chest rising and falling as his ears rang. He ignored the question Behind him, or didn't register it, either or. 

“Double D?” he pressed, instead. Spiderman got no response, and it took that silence to urge him forward. his steps were cautious and slow, but at least he wasn't walking the other way.

[[Or running away screaming.]]

{{You lost your temper a smidgin back there. Which is a nice way to say you've gone batshit insane, and we’re all worried for our general safety.}}

[[Well more crazy than usual.]]

“Oh go to hell.” 

“Wade.. Talk to me, what's going on,” Spiderman tried again, stopping just a few paces behind Deadpool.

“Going on? Why would anything be going on?” he asked in a voice pitched higher than he would have liked, teeth grinding in what might have been a bad habit. Deadpool's fingers loosened and tightened around his pistols several times in a movement Spidey had definitely caught, but it was keeping him from freaking out and that was the most important thing right now. Not how it might be perceived as threatening. 

“Okay well, you did just shoot at the wall,” he offered.

“Saw a bug,” Deadpool’s voice slipped from his initial alarm, to the cold and calculated tone he often used in rocky situations. Maybe he felt a little guilty about the heavy lull in the conversation, but he made no move to fix it. He just glared ahead at the chunk of missing rock.

“Right well as unsettling as that is… You can tell me what's bothering you Wade.” Deadpool felt a tentative hand on his shoulder, there for the time it took to lightly pat it, then gone. His shoulders instantly tightened.

[[Well I sure wouldn't argue with that offer.]]

{{That’s only because you want to know what's going on here, just as much as the next guy.}}

[[What did happen here?]]

[[Wade?]]

[[Earth to ground-beef head?]]

{{I do recall a conversation about us being reformed now.}}

[[yea! What Whit-]]

“Shut up,” Wade whispered.

when Spiderman made another move to raise his hand Deadpool turned on him. “Just-- You don't think I know what you're doing here!? What you're all doing!? I've been in this neck of the woods before kid. Believe me I can recognize the signs.” 

Deadpool thought of pacing but was too worried it would bring more attention to the scene behind him. Instead he stuck to his guns and stayed put. 

“I even went and did—but oh no. The audience isn't here for that now are they? No one tunes in for the action sequence but the minute you step on the set its all lights, cameras, action!” He fumed, turning only to box Spiderman in with his thumb and first finger. Spiderman just looked lost, unable to keep up with deadpool’s rambling, but at least he didn't move. He did however cross his arms in front of his chest. Then he fixed Deadpool with a glare of his own. 

“Alright I'll bite. Where are you losing the reviews.” 

[[haha… Spider-bite.]]

{{Unsafe living conditions ahead.}}

[[Oh, right... ~hazard! ~Hazard!]]

“Tread carefully.” Wade mumbled not really meeting spiderman’s hard stare. Actually he was pretty much looking anywhere else and even considered hiding behind his hands, though white pointed out how bad of an idea that was.

"What sort of action.” Spiderman asked not treading carefully at all, and instead wading forward with a tone Deadpool didn't like too much. 

[[He knows! He knows doesn't he!?]]

{{He assumes, defuse the situation.}}

"I'll show you.”

 

~

.  
.  
.

~

 

[[We’re not actually showing him, are we?]]

Wade had no idea how walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of his slip up, could be taken as him showing it to Spiderman. But it was yellow so Wade didn't really question it, or answer it for that matter. 

{{Of course not. Do you take Wade for a moron?}}

[[Well yea.]] 

Deadpool sent a warning glare in the direction of the boxes.

{{I can't believe we have to cover our tracks like this, all because you had a tempter tantrum!}}

It wasn't as if Deadpool didn't have practice covering up his tracks, it was just that it was hard to throw Spidey off any scent he got a whiff of. The pest could smell a lie off a lawyer for crepe sakes. 

Still Spidey followed behind Deadpool, despite his spotty actions so far.

They walked until they came to a radio shack. Duck tape covered a crack in the glass on the front door, a crack Wade had put there from his break in a week before.

“I uh… I broke into here.”

[[Hey! You're tattling?!]]

{{You can’t snitch on yourself moron, then it's just owning up to your actions.}} 

“What did you take Wade?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“You know that new flatscreen I got? Well uh.. Turns out that I didn't win it in a draw,” Wade mumbled, looking up from his feet sheepishly at Peter. And caught Peter’s fake dumbstruck look.

“You don't say?” he gasped, playing up his melodramatic reaction with a hand fluttering to his heart. 

“Well then don't ask stupid questions you already know the answer too,” Wade snapped, then cursed himself for blowing literally everything out of proportions

Peter raised up his hands up in surrender, “okay, okay. But you gotta admit Wade, this is weird even for you. When has a tv ever fazed you?” his head was tilted to the side as he moved closer again. He probably didn't even notice the step.

[[he knows us so well!]] 

Wade glared at the swooning yellow box, an expression that was somehow mirrored by white’s tone.

"Don't get me wrong! I'm glad you told me, and I obviously don't want you to steal this stuff." Spiderman probably went on but it was background noise. 

{{As I have said countless times; that's going to be our downfall. I for one think we should stop letting people get close to us}}

[[I for one think you sabotage everything good in your life because you have abandonment issues, and I for one think you should shut up! I like Spidey, he's been nice to us.]] 

{{Lets see how long that lasts.}} 

Wade starred at Peter and tried to ignore everything else going on around him. Absently he could tell he was starring to long, but he was trying to ignore that too. “Of course that's what's bothering me. That's what I said, Don't you believe me?”

[[Cheap shot.]]

With a sigh that deflated Peter a lot more than Wade would have liked; Peter nodded his head. “Okay Wade, I believe you.” He said quietly sounding almost ashamed, and small.

{{Stupid move.}}

It hardly lasted a blink before Spidey perked himself back up, and wiggled the takeout bag. He forced peppiness into his voice as he said, “hungry?”

[[I don't think he knows that we know him well.]]


	4. Chapter 4

They went their separate ways after that; Wade back to his shit apartment, and Spiderman off to do whatever he did when he wasn't forced to baby sit Wade’s dysfunctional ass. Probably adopt orphans and establish world peace or something equally as revolting.

He buried his face into his arms; not caring how the pizza smeared into his suit when he didn't bother to brush the left over slices off the couch. Instead he just groaned into his arms; frustrated with anything and everything that reared itself at his ugly head.

Speaking of which the boxes were still above his head, just onlooking with their stupid little ellipses. Whatever, they could sit there for all he cared he'd could ignore them.

He Did a good job of it too; for a full minute and twenty-nine seconds he payed them no mind at all. Until he turned his head towards them and cracked an eye open. 

“If you're just going to sit there, and do nothing but judge me; then you can leave too.” 

[[What the hell is wrong with you?]]

"You currently,” he mumbled, and it came out a lot more whiney than he planned.

{{charming response.}} 

 

~

.  
.  
.

 

~

 

Wade couldn't tell how long he slept for; just that the sun had gone down some time ago, and the streets were significantly quieter.

[[Dead-time!]]

He rubbed a gloved hand across his face, and took extra time to rub some of the sleep away. Wade sat himself up and leaned heavily into his hands, his face buried into them. 

"3:00 am already? The day sure flies by when your havin’ fun.” 

[[Killjoy was never in the contract you signed,]]

{{Someone has been banging at the door.}}

“Probably a pizza delivery. If it's the same guy as yesterday I'm giving him a freakin’ medal,” Wade mumbled as he moved towards the door. Still groggy with sleep, he leaned heavily on it as he pulled it open. 

 

He yawned behind the door and into his hand, the other held a finger up. The pizza guy could wait. “3 large pizzas right? I'll have ya know I haven't been ordering these and on account of your misconduct I won't be paying—“ catching sight of exactly who was a the door he snapped upright; his posture instantly changed into a proper one; “aaaaanything less than what you're owed! With a hefty tip for your stellar delivery hours! baby boy! You're just I time I think I just ordered pizza,” he said in a rush, hopping he'd saved his grotesquely scarred skin.

{{It isn't looking pretty.}}

[[I don't think he cares if we're a shitty customer…]]

Judging by the dark look on petey’s face, yellow was right for once

"Do you want to tell me what the hell happened today, or should I.”

[[Fuck this shit I'm out.]]

“I- well okay; I woke up, had pizza, I'd offer you some but it's gross now. Like On the floor gross, not just “it's been sitting on the counter for three days gross.—cause that never stopped you before.” Wade blinked at Peter a second, then continued on in his semi-frantic Rush. 

But he wasn't given the chance.

“I am not playing this game with you Wade. What. Happened. On. That. Roof?” Peter ground out, his voice gravely and low. Wade might have preferred yelling, yep definitely would have voted for yelling when compared with that hard look in Peter’s eyes. Wade hadn't seen that look since a certain run-in with a monkey.

“What do I do?”

{{Don’t ask me, you're on your own for this one.}}

"You tell me what happened Wade, the whole story.”

“Load of help you are.” Wade mocked, then caught the warning expression that flashed over Peter’s features, and quickly threw his hands up. He then shook most of his entire body in a classic ‘no not you.’ Motion. 

He straightened back up and rubbed his hand across the back of his head. he stared at his shoes, Wade's best bet was not to look at peter’s uncommon expression.

It wasn't uncommon enough that he couldn't imagine it up himself. 

He sighed then pushed the door fully open, motioning Peter in. “Do you want to talk about this in here?” He looked up when there was no comment, and put on a smile just wide enough that it would register through his mask. “Awe come on, we're not going to be one of those couples who leave their baggage to dry out in public, are we? You don’t really want to do this in the hallway, do you?” There was still no answer from the stoic man, and that stretched out silence was driving Wade crazy—More crazy. It took all the willpower he had and quite a bit he borrowed from the bank, just to not freak out then and there.

At least Peter stepped into the apartment. But he didn't do much more then that. 

Wade was about half aware that he was puttering around the living room, and fully aware of Peter’s eyes on the back of his head. They followed every single overly enthusiastic movement he made, but he couldn't stop himself from doing them. and he couldn't keep himself from tidying even if it did nothing.

Because Peter wasn't making any move too, wade deceived to fill the silence, “Do you want anything? If I had know you were coming over I would have gone shopping! But I guess it wouldn't be a surprise then would—“ 

“Wade. It is in your best interest to start talking.” 

Wade twirled around to face his Peter, a big smile in place as he opened his big stupid mouth. “But I am talking!”

“Wade!” 

He plopped down on his couch. Hands neatly in his lap and put his full attention on Spiderman—Peter. Whatever it was hard to keep all his personas straight.

Peter’s shoulders slumped, and he pressed a hand to his eyes. He signed as he rubbed that hand down his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, letting the words get muffled behind said hand. Wade didn't reply, for once he stayed quiet. It took an awful lot to get Peter to yell.

{{you're a lot to take}}

There was a dip in the couch from Peter sinking into it beside him. 

“I'm trying to help,” Peter whispered, like being the only ones in the room meant they had to whisper. Maybe it did. There was a thousand-and-one rules to the road, and Wade had never gotten the memo on any of them before. Maybe this was just one of those rules. 

“I don't doubt that. But who are you trying to help.” Wade wasn't asking, not really; just like he wouldn't look at Peter. He didn't want to, or couldn't; the reasoning didn't matter. Instead he stared out his window at the brick apartment adjacent to his building. 

“don't be like that Wade. You aren't letting me help,” Peter said, turned towards him. 

“you don't trust me.”

“You lied to me.”

“You went behind my back and-“

“Straight to my face, Wade. How can I trust you?” Peter interrupted, not much blame to his words. In fact it was stated more as a well known fact. How sad, he probably prepared for this.

“Tough break, must suck being right all the time.” Someone could say Wade was trying to get any reaction out of Peter. That he just couldn't stand the calculated argument they were having; so he'd take anything else. That once he got his way he'd hate that too. 

But Wade could eat his words later, in the mean time he tugged at loose strings on the couch and hated that this was civil. Peter had the option to act like he was above all of this, while Wade sat on the edge of poorly contained and vastly conflicting emotions. Getting scolded like a fucking child.

“And what exactly, is that supposed to mean?” Peter asked, an edge came into his voice. Fucking finally.

“Oh nothing really, just that you never trusted me, from the very get go,” Wade said in higher, more lilting voice than the situation called for. “There just wasn't much wiggle room in that impressive shadow you cast, now was there?” 

Reasoning be damned, he had shot up from the couch, and his voice had risen with him.

“I have given you the benefit of the doubt; every, single, time,” Peter said, even if he had wanted to yell again he had such a good tamper on his emotions, that no amount of TNT would have been able to blast through. 

Peter hadn’t stood up; but he stared defiantly up at Wade, and that was enough to make Wade feel smaller then a man over six feet should. 

For a minute Wade stood staring back at Peter, feeling like a deer lost in headlights. 

That deer really only had two options in the end. He could go back, or forward; and both options had equal likeliness of getting hit by a Mac truck.

Wade smirked and met Petey’s defiance with nonchalance. It was a cruel expression that had no business being anywhere outside of his business. 

“Oooh you gave it to me did you? Right. Because I'm some charity case you picked up off the street.” Peter's shoulders slipped out of their squared posture. He unfolded his hands from that white knuckled grip in his lap, and brushed a hand across his brow. 

”wade that isn’t what this is.” Peter sounded tired, and if that wasn't the best worst news Wade had had all day then he didn't like chimichangas. 

{{That's a double-dose of double-negatives.}} 

“But this sure in hell isn’t a level playing field. I'm not you're equal, and I'm definitely not equal when compared to your precious city.” Deadpool’s smile widened at the twitch in Peter’s expression; and that gave him everything he needed to drill his point in. “So let me ask again; who exactly are you trying to help?”

“Do you have any idea what you're asking of me Wade?” Peter sighed.

“Yea, keep up; I’ve said it like three times.” Wade sounded calm, but he felt like he snapped the words out. Maybe he just felt eager to get this over with.

“You can't make me choose between you and the entire freaking city. What am I supposed to do? Let you run rampet in the streets? Just turn a blind eye to the crimes you commit?” Peter Pulled his hand from his head. With nothing to hide behind me his full attention was trained on Wade. A bored expression crossed Wade’s features as he faced Peter, and leaned against his entertainment system. 

He crossed his arms over his chest.

The irony was not lost on him.

“Nah, you don’t gotta do either of those things. Its not your problem.” With a careless shrug of his shoulders and a tilt of his head towards said shoulder, he dismissed Peter entirely. 

“You make it my problem Wade. You think I like this? For once I'd love to just come over, and not have to worry about what you might've done that day.” Just about every second word Peter said was empathized, and his hand was dangerously close to being brought back to his face.

“Then don't come over. Case solved.”

“That's not going to fix what's wrong.” 

“No it isn't, is it? Because I'm the problem aren't I?.” 

“that's not what I'm saying.”

“You don’t have to say it Peter.” Peter looked at him then, really looked at him, and they both stayed quiet throughout the entire starring match. Wade looked away first. 

A minute had passed by, and as slow as that minute had seemed to go by; Wade moved out of the room. He grabbed his duffle bag as he left.

When Wade got to his room it didn't take him half as long to pack some of his stuff up. He could always make a second trip back if he missed anything. 

{{Do you really think this is a good idea?}}

He turned away from the box with a grunt, and nearly walked smack into Peter. Wade side stepped with a welcoming little flourish of his free hand. Peter stayed put.

“Wade what are you doing?” Peter said, and Wade ignored the tone. Hell he didn't even let himself process it; he just let the question fall around and block them into the doorway.

“Leaving.”

“just like that?”

Wade didn't say anything for a while. With a crumpling or crippling expression, depending on who you payed attention to; Peter stepped out of Wade’s way.


	5. Chapter 5

[[What the hell was that?!]]

 

 

[[I’m gone five minutes and you do that?!]]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[[Where are we going? Why are we leaving?]]

 

 

 

 

 

 

[[What’s going through you're head?]]

 

 

Groaning Wade slumped down at the stupid booth, drank his stupid coffee, and nursed his stupid head. The people around him got up and moved away.

{{A string of suicide missions will do that to a guy.}}

Wade cut a dark expression in the direction of the white box, but other-wisely ignored it.

The next time he looked up it was with a start, and to almost familiar brown on brown features 

[[Who in the ninth ring of hell…]]

“Hello Wade, it's been some time.” In front of Wade the person took a dainty sip of their coffee. The tension in the air had Wade sitting back in his chair, moving away without actively making himself do it.

“That's just always the case, huh?” Nearly growling the words, Wade shifted just so, and grabbed an easy accessible blade off his persons. A virtually unnoticeable action, even with those eyes trained on him. 

The blade he produced however; and folded his hands neatly over wasn't so concealed. The people who had fill the seats of the previous occupants around him, all tensed and moved away as best they could. “I've got quite the bone to pick with you for that.” His boxes were sent into high alert. The person in front of him regarded the knife with polite interest.

“So you do.”

 

 

“But I want you to know this was never what I intended to happen.”

 

 

“I had always—“

“Now if that isn't the biggest load of bullshit I ever had the pleasure to shovel.” The person, if they could even be called that smiled gently at Wade. Which only proved to set him off more.

“You're unhappy?”

Wade snapped. 

He flipped his blade up into his hand and slammed it down into the wooden table. The blade was lost right up until the hilt and his arm was definitely busted, but that could hardly matter when he was empathizing a point.

“Unhappy?! Oh no, no, no, you take me for a man who's lost everything he cared about. No you see I'm a man facing the very thing that has taken everything good in my life, away from me. I'm fucking seething.”

“Did I?”

 

 

“Shall we try again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Shall We?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for your time I hope you liked the first instalment, if not thats cool too, I can tell you writing it sure was a job and a half :P 
> 
> Don'tforget to go checkout TheLadySyko's work


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